


ring the bell backwards

by honey_wheeler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Completely Gratuitous, Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:50:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That is most definitely the first time any woman has used the word ‘verisimilitude’ while inviting me to go down on her.” Kit’s kind of amazed he can speak in full sentences as he watches her wriggle out of her jeans and kick them aside to stand before him in knickers the same pink of her lips, covered with white polka dots the way her freckles cover her milk-pale skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ring the bell backwards

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: He's in the room when she reads the 'Lord's Kiss' chapter for the first time. She starts reading out loud...
> 
> Spoilers for ASoS.

He’s been dreading this. Or anticipating it. He’s not certain which. Ever since Rose told him she was reading the books, all he’s been able to think about is her getting to the scene in the cave. And now she’s there, and she’s sitting on his chair – the big comfortable one that he likes best, but he always lets her sit there – giggling and blushing and giving him suggestive looks, and good God, he is in trouble.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Harington,” she says, looking at him over the top of her book with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. “You just said they had sex, you never told me about this.”

“I wasn’t holding out!” he insists. “I just…look, they _do_ have sex, that’s-”

“Ah, but you didn’t tell me about his talented mouth,” she says, and now he’s the one blushing. Then she wrinkles her nose adorably at him and says, “Is your mouth as talented?” and he couldn’t possibly be blushing anymore because every drop of blood in his body seems to have drained into his crotch. God, the number of times he’s imagined that scene with her since she was cast…

“Rose,” he starts, but he has no idea what to say. They’ve only just started seeing each other – they’ve barely even started having sex, though there was a week or two of making out for hours before that, when each of them was still insisting that they didn’t date coworkers, that they were only fooling around, that they were just practicing for when filming started – and this isn’t something he was prepared to discuss when she came over to his trailer to hang out.

“Do you love the smell of me?” she says, reading from the book. “Do you love my red hair?”

“Stop,” he tells her, but the words are weak, and he can only watch her as she pushes to her feet and walks towards him in what could only be called a saunter, her hips swaying like a ringing bell.

“Do you love my mouth, and the way I kiss you?” she continues, raising her eyes over the top of the book to meet his momentarily, giving him a knowing smirk. “Do you love my smile and my teats?” The teats in question are in front of his face now, and she leans towards him, dropping the book to the floor with a thump and placing one hand on the arm of the couch beside him.

“Rose,” he says, and all he wants to do is bury his face against her breasts. His hands come up to her waist. There’s a tiny gap between the hem of her shirt and her jeans, and he feathers his thumbs over the ridiculously soft skin there.

“Do you love my skinny legs and what’s between them?” she asks, playful and impish, and he does bury his face in her breasts then, pulling her into his lap so he can get to her mouth.

“Not skinny,” he says once he’s kissed her breathless. “Perfect.” 

“But you love what’s between them all the same,” she answers, and she laughs when he offers a fervent yes, laughs when he kisses her again, the sound of it bright and happy until he stops it with a kiss so deep it’s like he’s trying to climb inside her. Her mouth should be as familiar to him as water now, but still it seems new, still he feels the need to explore every corner of it like he’s never kissed her before. He’s trembling before long, his body shaking with the need to possess every bit of her.

“How about you show me if your mouth really is as talented as Jon Snow’s,” she says, punctuating her words with kisses and licks and nips at his lower lip that sting until she soothes them with her tongue. He can’t even answer, can only make a rough sound into her mouth as he nods emphatically.

“No, stay,” he breathes out when she pulls away. He fumbles one hand over the cushion beside him, tries to tug her down to lie back on it, but she shakes her hand and stands, her hands working at the fly of her jeans.

“I should be standing,” she says. “For verisimilitude.”

“That is most definitely the first time any woman has used the word ‘verisimilitude’ while inviting me to go down on her.” Kit’s kind of amazed he can speak in full sentences as he watches her wriggle out of her jeans and kick them aside to stand before him in knickers the same pink of her lips, covered with white polka dots the way her freckles cover her milk-pale skin.

“Is that bad?” Rose asks, with a teasing grin that tells him she knows it’s quite the opposite. She puts her hands on her hips, and cocks one knee, her posture challenging and inviting. So Kit does what any sensible man would do; he answers her challenge.

He barely feels the hard floor under his knees. Every bit of his focus is on her, the smell of her sex, the feel of cotton on his tongue as he opens his mouth over her knickers to suck. Her hands are fisting in his hair when he hooks his fingers in the waistband of her knickers and tugs them down, rubbing his nose in the coppery red hair he reveals before sliding his tongue in to touch and taste.

“Oh,” he hears her say above him. “Kit, that’s- _oh_.” Her fingers tighten in his hair hard enough to be almost painful, but he doesn’t care; nothing could distract him from her, from finding out how sweet she tastes. Her knees buckle when he finds her clit and sucks it gently between his lips, and he steadies her, takes her weight with his elbows hooked between her legs and his hands holding her arse and hips. It opens her more to his mouth and he sucks at her, dips his head lower to collect her response on his tongue.

“Kit,” she says on a whine, his name breaking into a gasp. “Oh, that’s…there, right th- oh _god_.” She closes her thighs around his face when she comes, her knees going loose so that she sinks to the floor. He’s not sure how he does it, but somehow his mouth never loses contact with her all the way down to the floor. She’s whimpering and moaning and making these hitchy little noises, and Kit can’t bear it, he couldn’t possibly get enough of her, the taste of her flooding his tongue, the sound of her making him so hard it hurts. She’s barely finished shivering out her orgasm when he’s driving her to another, eating her out like she’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, which she might be, and like this might never happen again so he should get as much as he can while he’s able, which he hopes won’t be true.

“No, please,” she begs after she comes a second time and still he licks and sucks at her, “please, fuck me, Kit, come on.”

It’s something that requires little encouragement, though he can’t resist getting his tongue in her cunt for one last taste, sucking her clit to wring one more shiver from her. She’s fished a condom out of his wallet – the fact that she knows he’s been keeping some there gives him a funny ache – and she’s ready with it by the time he’s gotten his jeans unbuckled and pushed down. She sits up to roll it on to his cock, her hands doing more touching than strictly necessary so that he thinks he might come without even getting inside her like a horny teenager.

Sliding inside her feels as strangely new as kissing her does. She makes him feel like she’s the first girl he’s ever fucked, like he’s still a kid who’s amazed any girl will talk to him, let alone touch him. It makes him lose his finesse, and he fucks her across the floor, until she sets her hands against the wall to brace herself against the force of his hips pushing into her. He’d apologize, but her mouth is half open and her eyes are half closed, and she’s pressing her heels into the backs of his thighs so hard he thinks she might leave bruises, and he knows there’s no apology needed. She wants this as much as he does. He snakes one hand down between them and rubs it over her clit and she comes with a shudder and a wordless sound that verges up an octave as she clenches around him and makes him see stars. He drops his head to her breast and drives in to her and thinks he might pass out from how hard he comes.

He’s not sure how long they lie there together, in a tangle of sated and sweaty limbs, and disheveled clothing. A button on her shirt is digging into Kit’s forehead, and he thinks it will probably leave a mark, an arc inscribed deep in his skin. She pushes at his shoulders. He rolls to his side and props his head up on one hand, watching her as she crawls on her knees to reach his cigarettes.

“It’s a good thing you always have these handy,” she says, mumbling the words around the cigarette already between her lips as she lights it and breathes deep, turning her head to exhale as she passes it to him.

“I like to be prepared,” he says, then take a deep drag and passes it back, letting his fingers ghost over hers and trail down her arm. She sits cross-legged beside him, wearing only her shirt, and he tells himself that it’s beyond rude to stare at the thatch of bright hair between her legs, but he can’t seem to stop himself. She catches the direction of his gaze and smiles like a woman with a secret.

“We have call in ten minutes,” she reminds him.

“I know.”

“Someone’s going to come fetch us at any moment.” As if on cue, there’s a knock on the trailer door and a voice outside says they’re needed in costuming and makeup. Kit swears and Rose laughs, holding the fag to his lips. He thinks he can taste her on it. Then she stands and begins the hunt for her knickers, stepping into them when she finds them and pulling them up in one swift movement, then repeating the whole process with her jeans. Kit needs to do nothing more than do up his fly, so he leans back and watches her, smoke bitter in his lungs. 

When she’s all ready, he stands, zipping up his fly and buckling his belt, letting her pinch the fag from his lips. She takes one more drag and stubs it out on top of a soda can that Kit’s been meaning to bin. Then she steps close and breathes into his mouth, the taste of her mingling with the acrid smoke.

“If we get through the scene without too many retakes, we’ll have time to come back here and do all of this again,” she tells him, her lips moving against his. Just the thought of it is making Kit’s body stir and his blood boil.

“I’m going to be the best bloody actor on the fucking planet, then,” he says, and her laugh is bright and happy as he follows it out the door of the trailer and into the harsh white sunlight.


End file.
